A Familiar Stranger

‘You said you were coming back,’ she mumbled.

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘It took you long enough—and what about all the time in between?’ She straightened up, moving away from him in case she gave in to the urge to throw herself into the comfort of his arms, and made herself meet his eyes again. ‘You can’t really expect to disappear from my life so comprehensively and then waltz back in as if you own me!’

‘I didn’t disappear! Every time I’ve been back while you were here you’ve had to go away, or been busy, or some feeble excuse. I haven’t been avoiding you, Janna, you’ve been avoiding me! It’s hardly my fault if I finally took the hint and left you alone.’

Was that true? Had she driven him away herself? Was it possible she’d really read him all wrong? Perhaps the change in him that Christmas hadn’t been so significant; perhaps he had been just the same old Finn that he always was, even though he’d been her lover.

No. He had been different before her birthday, before he went away. Perhaps he’d just regretted it. Her father had talked him out of his impulsive urge to marry her on the spot—perhaps his arguments had been too convincing?

Janna sighed. ‘Maybe we just took each other for granted, Finn.’

‘So what now, Janna?’ He reached out for her, then dropped his hands and rammed them into his pockets. ‘Look, we can’t talk about this here. Let me take you home when this do is over, so I can talk to you, just for a while. There’s a lot we need to say.’

‘I hardly think that will look very good—you coming home with me your first day back.’

He laughed. ‘With your parents standing guard like chaperones? Not even in this part of the Highlands are they that fanatical about propriety.’

‘What have my parents got to do with it? I don’t live at home any more. I haven’t for the past year.’

He looked astonished. ‘Where do you live, then?’

She waved over her shoulder. ‘There—the Nurse’s House, of course.’

He shook his head as if to clear it. ‘I’m sorry, I just assumed——’

‘Well, you shouldn’t, Finn. You shouldn’t assume anything about me any more—nothing at all. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go and see off our guest of honour.’

Drawing in a steadying breath, Janna tipped up her chin, straightened her shoulders and somehow found the strength to walk away.

That Friday night signalled the end of Janna’s hopes that working with Finn would mean a return to the easy, casual relationship of their childhood.

Once she had resented that treatment from him—now, perversely, she longed for it. Finn, however, obviously had something more in mind, and Janna didn’t know how to deal with it. So she took her usual action in the face of Finn’s inconstancy—she avoided him.

On Monday morning Finn took the usual branch surgery, held at the Nurse’s House in Kilbarchan, and although he said nothing Janna could see from his eyes that he wanted to talk to her and wouldn’t rest until he had.

Fine. She wasn’t at all convinced that she was strong enough to deal with him once he really turned on the charm, and dragging up all her old fears and disappointments would upset her. The last thing her pride needed was Finn reducing her to tears of disappointment and confusion. What a weapon!

No way was she handing him that on a plate. She was polite, courteous, but distant—and out of a room whenever he entered it.

It worked—to a point. By eleven-thirty, however, he’d had enough, and came and tracked her down in her room where she had just finished with the last patient.

‘All done?’ she asked brightly.

‘No, I’ve got to put some stitches in a nasty leg wound—one of our visitors slipped on a hill path this morning on the dewy grass and cut his leg on a bit of old rusty iron sticking out of the ground. I wondered if you could give me a hand?’

She nodded. ‘Of course.’ At least with the patient between them things couldn’t get too personal, she reasoned.

She had reckoned without her response to his presence. It was enough that Finn was in the room. He didn’t have to look at her or talk to her or touch her—all of which he did, of course, while he was working. Nothing personal, all strictly professional, but it was enough to drive her to distraction.

Finally they were finished, and Mr Gibbs was asked to come back on Wednesday to have the stitches checked and the dressing changed.

Janna quickly cleared up, then headed back to her room, leaving Finn organising a prescription to be delivered that afternoon from the dispensary at the main surgery in Craigmore.

She was about to escape when he reappeared in her doorway, lounging comfortably against it and cutting off her retreat.

‘What now?’ she asked, a little shortly.

His eyebrows rose. ‘Sorry, am I holding you up on your visits? I just wanted a word about Betty Buchan. She seems to be getting more and more confused.’

‘She is,’ Janna agreed. ‘Her neighbours worry about her, but they keep tabs on her and let me know if they think anything’s wrong. She reports to them daily on the phone.’

‘If she could remember what time of day it was,’ Finn said drily. ‘I gather she woke the shop in the middle of the night again to order her groceries.’

Janna had heard about that. It was getting more difficult to see the funny side of Mrs Buchan’s confusion now, and Janna was increasingly worried about the elderly lady’s safety.

‘I’ll go and see her again,’ she told Finn quietly. ‘I think it’s maybe time she went into some sort of care. I’ll see if I can persuade her.’

‘Won’t her family mind if you interfere?’

‘What family?’ Janna scoffed. ‘They don’t give a damn. Someone has to take responsibility, and her family won’t.’

‘Or can’t?’

‘Won’t,’ Janna said firmly. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘Yes—Janna, have I got something contagious?’

Her smile faded. ‘Contagious?’ she said in mock innocence. ‘You tell me.’

‘Janna, stop it. We need to talk.’

‘No, Finn,’ she corrected, ‘you need to talk. What I need is to get on with my rounds. Please lock the door on your way out.’

And with that she walked away from him for the third time. She wondered how many more times she would get away with it.

Not many, she suspected—not unless he had changed even more than she imagined.

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